Comfort Zone
by palomino333
Summary: Sniper plays with fire when he returns an advance from Medic. The doctor is never as delicate as he seems.


Sniper hissed in pain as he dashed for shelter. His left arm was clutching his right, the latter of which was enduring stinging white-hot spikes. He didn't dare look at the wound; the action would only make the pain feel worse. It was nothing compared to the lightning bolt of agony that continued to strike his right hip from each movement of the attached leg. The sun blazed down on him as he continuously screamed, "HELP!" and "MEDIC!"

Thanks to the Pyro, his right side, shoulder to hip, was completely seared. The only man he despised more than the pyromaniac was himself for letting his guard down. If he hadn't been so set on eliminating the enemy Heavy, this wouldn't have occurred. At the same token, however, the Heavy had been making it rather difficult for the BLU team to breach the enemy defenses.

XXXXXX

He'd picked a low platform at the end of an indirect path as his vantage point. He'd already been spotted on a higher elevation by the enemy Scout, who had seemed intent on making a nuisance out of himself as always. Sniper's shot had been perfectly aimed; the Heavy was down, leaving a rather confused RED Medic glancing quickly around for his protector's killer."Look here, pumpkin head. You're all done," Sniper muttered to himself with a self-satisfied smirk.

A sharp impulse seized him the next moment. Something was terribly wrong. He couldn't tell what exactly, but it was enough to make his heart pound in his chest. The Aussie jumped to the left off the platform. Air whistled by his ears as he turned his head to see his attacker, although the sudden burst of heat gave it away.

With a distressed cry, he saw that it was the enemy Pyro. Flames completely covered the area where he had once been crouched. His eyes stretched wide as he realized too late that the enemy wasn't finished; the flamethrower had swung at the last moment to reach its target. If it hadn't been for its wielder's flame-retardant suit to help him get a better shot, the hit would have missed.

The flame kissed and embedded itself in Sniper's flesh almost immediately. His clothing on his right side was reduced to nothing more than an ashy mess in moments. With a howl of pain, he tumbled to the ground, his once-graceful jump broken. He landed unceremoniously on his rear. He wanted to remove all feeling from the right side of his body. The wounds pierced him maliciously as the fire burned on his flesh, cutting coarsely into the pink, exposed skin. Sniper gritted his teeth as he swung his head up at the Pyro. The man, rather than attacking him once again, was laughing at him, his flamethrower held victoriously over his head. The burning man let out a breath, and proceeded to drop and roll on the hot sand. Strangled screams escaped from him, which in turn caused even more muffled laughs to issue forth from the Pyro. The sadistic freak was actually finding this "slapstick" quite amusing.

The marksman knew very well that sand was getting into his open wounds; it felt like nails were digging into him. The problem was, not a single reservoir was nearby, and putting it out with jarate would have taken too long, given the fact that he would have had to open a sealed jar with only one hand. Sniper coughed as he inhaled smoke. Tears stung his face. How long would this go on? He was surprised that the Pyro hadn't finished him off by now.

Somewhere between the beating sun, and the hot plate of the sand, the fire on his body died down. Sniper spat on the ground as he raised his head to look up at the platform. The Pyro was gone, but his fire still blazed. Rage threatened to consume the man he had attacked as a fist smacked the ground. Oh, he would get back at him, all right. He'd skin that beast alive, suit and all.

XXXXXX

So here he was, trying to make himself scarce from the enemy while crying for help from his allies. Blue and red danced across the sand before him, making miniature whirlwinds from the commotion of running feet and explosions. It reminded him slightly of the fits the bothersome rabbits used to give him in the outback. It times, it became almost impossible to see. He'd usually have to pull over, and wait it out. Luckily for him, it wasn't nearly as high a caliber a problem on this battlefield.

Sniper let out a sigh of relief as he took in the sight of his team's Medic dashing toward him. His blue coat swept with his movements, while the Sun periodically glinted off his glasses. A determined look was on his face as the German made his way through the crossfire toward his patient. If Sniper hadn't been in the state that was enduring, he'd be thinking that the man looked...pretty good actually.

Once the healer was in range, he utilized the Medi Gun with no further ado. Sniper, meanwhile, let go of his arm, and glanced over Medic's shoulder in order to stay vigilant. He really wasn't in the mood to see the man standing before him be shot full of holes, or go up in flames for that matter. In a way, he was taking the Heavy's place, at least for the moment. That wasn't to say that the Aussie necessarily enjoyed that. As fond as he was of Medic, he worked better alone. Medic, on the other hand, was nonchalant about his work as usual. Now that he was tending to his patient, he was calmer. He would be finished, and move on. At least, that was what Sniper read from his body language. Medic was standing as still as he was, rather than darting about like a nervous beetle when he was without a man worth healing, or RED vermin worth impaling, on the field.

"That should about do it. Next time, you won't be as fortunate." the healer declared, pointing to the generously exposed skin on Sniper's right side. The man in question tensed slightly at the gesture. He personally didn't like having any part of him showing on the battlefield that shouldn't be. Medic, much to his chagrin, raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't say a word.

"We done here, then?" Sniper pressed, both anxious to take his revenge on the Pyro, and to get out of this awkward situation.

Medic curtly nodded, and animatedly gestured to the frenzy behind him. "Go get them!"

Sniper didn't need to be told twice. He was off in a heartbeat, all the while scanning the area for that mute mental-defective. He couldn't possibly have gone too far. The suit and the flamethrower weighed him down enough as was, and the healing had only taken a few moments. Despite the misery the Sniper had had to endure earlier, it was looking like a good day for him.

It didn't take too long to find him. He was rushing after the BLU Soldier, who was focusing all his attention on trying to kill the RED Demoman. The Scotsman was taking turns between taunting and firing upon the Soldier. Sniper resisted the urge to wince. The feud between Soldier and Demoman was common knowledge, and some days it got really ugly. Blood would be splattered on the walls like paint, and chunks of what remained of a human being would be raining like confetti.

"That the best ye got, Jane?" Demoman yelled as he hopped atop a stack of crates. Soldier responded by firing a string of curses and a rocket at him. The latter missed horribly when its target leapt away at the last moment.

Sniper rolled his eyes. This was exactly why he never let his feelings get in the way. Proof of this point came when he fired a perfectly-aimed shot against the back of the Pyro's head at the correct moment. The Aussie ditched his original plan of skinning the man, seeing as how it would take far too long, and instead settled for placing his hat over his heart in a mock show of grief. He'd make the creature masquerading as a man scream next time.

Knowing it was better not to get in-between Demoman and Soldier, Sniper searched for another target elsewhere. What he found was his Medic half-lying on the ground with one hand over a good-sized gunshot wound in his chest, and the other pushing on the ground as he tried to crawl across it. His dark hair was plastered to his terrified face, its sweat making it shine in the sunlight alongside the lenses of his glasses, which were now lopsided. It was shocking to see the self-confident Medic such a shadow of his former self. "Assistance, bitte!"

Sniper gnashed his teeth. Helping Medic would slow him down tremendously. The problem, however, was that the respawn would take too long, and if the BLU team wanted to win, it would need its healer. There also was the fact that he had been helped by this man (and watched his back) just moments ago. He couldn't leave him to die; it would be completely dishonorable. The weighing of options resulted in his helping his comrade up, and flinging an arm over his shoulder. "Ya all right, Doc?"

"That is the stupidest question you could ask me!" He snapped. Sniper gave a short laugh as he frantically searched for yet another shelter. Upon finding it, he took off in that direction, but not without accidentally jostling the man he held. "That hurts, dummkopf!" Medic yelled.

"Do ya want help or not?" Sniper inquired. Medic made no further comment, but groaned in pain at his wound. Sniper was curious as to how such a wound had occurred. This was especially since just moments before, Medic had been fine. He decided against asking. Medic hadn't inquired as how he'd managed to walk off half-charred, so he wouldn't ask about the bullet holes that were oozing more and more bright scarlet onto the once-clean fabric by the minute. "Okay, here we are, safe and sound."

Medic snorted at that as Sniper let go of him. He leaned back against the empty barrels that were stacked behind him, and activated his Medi Gun after removing and pointing it at himself. Sniper removed his aviators in the shade to clean off the thick layer of dust and sand that had settled on them. He turned to look back at the battle, and grinned at what he saw. From this angle, it seemed the BLU team was advancing quite well. The bodies of a RED Scout, Soldier, and Sniper (he resisted the urge to shudder at that), joined the Pyro on the ground. The BLU Demoman, Pyro, and Heavy triumphantly rushed by, although the latter was moving much more slowly than usual, and craning his neck as if looking for someone. "I think Heavy's waiting on ya, mate."

"I am not blind."

Sniper shrugged as he put his eyewear back on, and exited the area. "Sniper!" He turned back. "Danke." He tipped his hat, and continued on his way.

XXXXXX

"WE WON! HOLY SHIT, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! WOOOOO!" Scout cried out as he ran around the rec room in circles, his arms waving in the air above his head.

"That's great, kid, but I think we got the message after the FIRST FIFTY TIMES!" Engineer exclaimed with his fingers in his ears.

Sniper's eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the Bostonian's behavior. He certainly didn't mind celebrating a victory after enduring quite a horrible losing streak. He didn't mind drinking over it. Hell, he'd had a few beers already. What he did mind, however, was what the young man had drunk. Why, oh why, did he have to go on a Bonk drinking binge? Scout didn't pay the hard-hatted man any attention, and continued running like a hamster on a wheel, save for the fact that the wheel was nonexistent.

Finally, Heavy decided enough was enough. He held out a massive arm, which the kid not only ran into, but bounced off of. He lay on the floor, stunned. "Little man needs to calm down," the giant simply stated. Without lifting a finger off his violin, Medic shook his head in disapproval at the Scout, who was putting a hand to his throbbing cranium.

Sniper didn't know what he was playing, but it sounded nice in a way. Medic never played anything outside of the realm of the classics, much to Engineer's unhappiness. That was remedied by the fact that the Texan had his guitar, but tonight was one of those nights he didn't feel like bringing it out. This was probably due to the fact that his hands had been kept busy all day by the maintenance of his sentries. If it hadn't been for them, the BLU line wouldn't have been held long enough for an advance.

Medic's fingers flew lightly over the string instrument, plucking out the chopped, quiet notes. Sniper heard the background noise of voices fade out as the music of the violin overtook it. His eyes focused more and more on the player at work, his dark eyes darting back and forth, his head bobbing slightly with the tune. He seemed so absorbed in what he was doing, yet he was still aware of what was going on around him. He held that similarity with his watcher, whose eyelids were slowly starting to droop...Sniper shook his head out, and switched his attention to the pool table, which currently had Demoman, who was lying his head on it while holding an empty bottle, Soldier (in a horrible attempt at cheating) trying to prod a ball along with his shovel, and Spy, who was lining up his winning shot. With a crack, he successfully polished off another perfect round, despite the obstacles.

Soldier grew angry. He reached out to grab Spy's tie and yank him toward him. The target of the assault easily side-stepped him. "Piece of shit Frenchie!" He yelled, smacking his fist down on the table's polished wood. As he stormed out of the room, the Demoman called after him to bring back another bottle of scrumpy, and Spy counted the money that was in Soldier's wallet. He'd easily swiped the object while the other man had been focused on getting ahead in the game. Given the owner's current mood, he probably wouldn't realize its absence until the next day.

"Ooo!" He exclaimed with a cruel smirk while thumbing through the pictures, and gestured to Engineer and Pyro, who were leaning against the wall with an open beer each, to take a look.

He beckoned for Sniper, who was splayed on the couch, to come over as well, but the Aussie shook his head. "No thanks, mate. Don't want any nightmares."

Spy shrugged as Heavy took his own gander. "Suit yourself." Whatever it was, it was clearly enough to make Engineer laugh so hard, he had to grip onto the table to keep from falling on the floor with laughter, Heavy to guffaw so much that his head turned crimson, and Pyro to roll on the floor laughing. Scout came over to see what the fuss was about, but Spy held the wallet away. "This is not for your virgin eyes."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I AM NOT A VIRGIN!" Scout snapped, and jumped in an attempt to grab the wallet. Spy was tantalizingly holding it over his head, and retracting it whenever Scout jumped high enough. Sniper laughed, and took another swig of his beer as the music of Medic's violin echoed in his ears. Light-hearted nights with his team like this...As much as Sniper was a loner, he had to admit (at least to himself) that they made the fighting worth it to him.

XXXXXX

His forehead...Something warm and slightly wet was pressing down upon his bare forehead. With a cry of surprise, Sniper sat bolt upright, shoving whatever it was away from him. It let out its own shout, although this was slightly of pain. Sniper grimaced at the soreness on top of his head as he grabbed his kukri from its holster, and pointed it at the throat of his own Medic.

The only sounds that came for a moment were of their heavy breathing. Medic was pale as a sheet, his hands held submissively in the air. His teammate wasn't convinced. "Back up," Sniper growled. The German followed his order without a word. The Aussie couldn't help but notice him swallow. A sweeping look told him that he was still in the rec room, and it was deserted, save for the two of them. It was also in a low light, indicating that it was much later into the night.

Sniper groped around behind him with his free hand, and found his hat propped on a pillow. He let his hand holding the weapon drop to his side while he replaced it on his head. "Sorry about that, Doc," he muttered, "Must've dozed off." If Medic had been the enemy Spy, they wouldn't be having this conversation.

Medic let out a sigh of relief, and backed up. "No, I should be sorry for waking you. Not a very bright idea." The two phrases came out short as he went over to pick up his violin case. Sniper couldn't help but notice how stiffly he was walking.

He shook his head. "Call that an answer?"

The bespectacled man turned. "Vas?"

"Ya heard me," he replied firmly, "Whatever you were doing to me earlier, I wouldn't call that just 'waking me up.'" Sniper twirled his kukri in the air a to enhance his point as he advanced slowly toward him. A blush dusted Medic's cheeks, and it was clearly against his will, considering the outraged expression on his face. Sniper smirked. He'd trapped him. Medic couldn't possibly say it was none of his business, considering the situation.

It took the man a little while, but he finally relented, throwing his hands up in the air. "Fine! I was extending the thank you from yesterday!"

The victor in the battle of wits laughed. "Got a way ya can say it easier, mate." Medic, still red-faced, refused to look at him, despite how close he was. Sniper's shadow fell over him, and he couldn't help but notice how small and delicate he looked from this close. One of Sniper's gloved hands propped itself against the wall behind Medic, while the other fastened itself onto the collar of the azure coat. The kukri was in its holster once more. "It's called a kiss," he whispered in Medic's ear before crashing their lips together.

It was better than Sniper had thought it would be. The Medic's lips felt so soft, despite the sharp words that usually issued out from them. He held this contradictory being's frame to his body, as if both trying to keep him from wriggling free, although no need manifested itself, and to stop him from discomfortingly banging against the wall. Medic had de-equipped his gear, meaning he would have no cushion. Sniper, meanwhile, was lovingly being paid attention by Medic. His fingers were trailing softly over the scars on his face and neck, stroking them and making the man he was "examining" wishing that his gloves were off. Sniper groaned as one of Medic's hands dipped down to caress his collar bone. Plastic clunked as aviators collided with glasses. Sniper fixed that by moving to the doctor's neck. Medic moaned for a moment. The next, however, he harshly pushed on Sniper's chest. "Nein."

He disengaged himself from the man as his mind flew back together. He felt slightly self-conscious as he stared at Medic, who had a less-than-happy look on his face. "Sorry." The two had never done this before, and he'd gotten a little ahead of himself. Medic's expression became lighter, and he ended the apprehension by tsking his tongue.

Sniper watched him as he painstakingly lifted his violin case. He couldn't help but feel sweat trickle down his neck as he realized that its music had caused him to fall asleep. Without turning back to him, Medic commented in a dry tone, "Remember, you still have a physical in a few days. I'm afraid you will have to expose yourself to me then."

Sniper roughly clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Do anything to me, and I'll cut your testicles off. Got it?"

Medic pried his fingers off. "Loud und clear, considering the fact that I can easily restrain you." At that, he left the room.

Sniper shook his head as the man's footsteps died away. The only reason he could give for getting himself into this situation was the exact same as why he didn't want to stay in it: it was risky. The only consolation he had for that was the fact that he had seen Medic bleed onto the sand. He was imperfect, as was anyone else. Was there an advantage there? Perhaps. Only time could tell. The good news was that Sniper was an expert at waiting. He just had to be sure to stay on the German's good side during the physical.


End file.
